


Fly Me to the Moon, April 17, 1970

by MissAtomicBomb77



Series: For the Greater Good, Let's Do the News [4]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAtomicBomb77/pseuds/MissAtomicBomb77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t like any of these guys Charlie. I like you. I don’t dance with people I don’t like. There’s a certain intimacy in dancing that these buffoons would assume leads them into my bed and that is very much not the case.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly Me to the Moon, April 17, 1970

April 17, 1970  
9:02pm  
Hotel Le Royal  
Phnom Penh, Cambodia

“Do you dance? Can you dance?” Lee asks him but she’s already to her feet from the table in the hotel ballroom. “I haven’t danced in ages.”

Charlie is a little taken aback by the admission. “You could have been dancing every night if you wanted.”

“I don’t like any of these guys Charlie. I like you. I don’t dance with people I don’t like. There’s a certain intimacy in dancing that these buffoons would assume leads them into my bed and that is very much not the case.”

He’s slightly aghast, but collects himself. “I’m amazed Lee on how you just cut to the chase. In everything.”

Lee shrugs. “It’s a fault. Can we dance now?”

He can’t help but laugh softly to himself. “Yeah, yes.”

She’s a vision in this white chiffon dress and he knows this is the first time she’s worn it here because when they came down for dinner, she owned the room. It was sleeveless with a conservative cut to emphasize a necklace, if she was wearing one. A silver sequence belt at her waist and the length was just below her knees. It was the back he liked the best, most of all the lack of it because he would be able to touch her without a layer of cloth between her soft skin and his calloused hands.

He pales next to her in the only pair of black slacks he owns and his white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Lee doesn’t even care. She has eyes only for him and could have cared less if he was dressed in rags. She wants to dance. She wants to be close to him. She wants to tell him and everyone in the hotel that she’s all in with this man. Charlie Skinner.

They’ve missed the song and she’s about to become annoyed but she sees someone is flipping the record and the couples, comprised of a collection of local women, reporters and an errant solider have made no move to vacate the dance floor. A familiar beat soon fills the room, a soft one and it’s one they both recognize as Lee pulls Charlie behind her to find a place on the dance floor.

It’s so easy, natural and Charlie can only think thank God for Frank Sinatra and that it’s a song Charlie actually knows. They’re pressed together and he can only think how wonderful it is. She’s just beaming now, no need to adjust his hands because they’re in the right place and she likes the weight of his hand on her back. It’s like they’ve danced together a hundred times before.

He doesn’t know why he does it, but Charlie can’t help himself. After a few beats and a verse flies as their bodies engage in the dance he leans to her ear and the lyrics are a warm whisper on her cheek and neck. “Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore; in other words, please be true. In other words, I love you.” They’ve known each other for only a short amount of time, but he knows she loves words and guesses she loves them as much as he does.

The music flares and they are lost in the dance once more.

Allen Nielson of the New York Times brings an offering of a cold can of beer as he finds a place to sit next to Ed Ryan at the edges of the dance floor. Allen and Ed are about the same age, they are not young men but they are not their fathers. They grew up in the shadows of the Greatest Generation and have awesome respect for what they do in reporting in Vietnam and Cambodia. Allen would always saw that he wore it better than Ed, he thought he could still get away with things men half his age were doing while Ed looked like he struggled to keep up with the old folks.

They were technically rivals, as Allen was the head of the New York Times reporting for the country and assistant for the reporting coming out of their neighbor Vietnam. He was in Saigon more frequently lately, so the thought having a party at the hotel was good for moral and business. Ed did much the same thing, except he was with United Press International and didn’t have the burden of babysitting kids in Saigon, just controlling all of the UPI reporters and the independents in Cambodia.

Ed takes the drink and nods his thanks as Allen speaks. “Tell me about your boy over there? The one that finally got the little flower of the Royal Hotel to bloom.”

They’re watching Charlie and Lee dance and notice how he’s leaning into her, telling her something. It’s throwing their pace off a little but the smile on her face seems to indicate she doesn’t mind.

He opens the can first before responding. “Nothing to tell. Charlie keeps to himself. Not high on the production scale but each one of his stories is like a Rolls Royce.”

Allen rolls his eyes. “He must has something the rest of us don’t Ed. Every guy in this building has tried at least twice to get her to come out of her shell and there he is: the guy from left field getting her to dance. I feel like I’m in an alternate world. I’m seeing something I never thought I would.”

Ed nods at Allen’s assessment. “He’s the smartest son of a bitch I have ever met. Guess she needed the brain power.”

Allen snorts. “If he’s a fucking genius why is he here?”

“Out of all the guys here, I’ve known Charlie the longest and I’d even dare say I know him the best. Small town kid worked his way through school and everyone thought he was going to be a lawyer. Decided to join the Marines instead against the will of everyone who ever met him. Does his time, comes out on the other side and decides that there’s a story to be told and throws himself back in the mix. Do you want to know why?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know why a guy supposedly that smart would come out here and work with a bunch of fools.”

“When he tells me, I’ll tell you.” They both roar in laughter and take a drink of their respective beers. He’s as smart as a whip and has landed the most beautiful woman in two countries, Ed thinks to himself jealously.

Lee’s stomach has filled with nervous butterflies and Charlie’s hand suddenly feels hot against her skin. Color rises to her face and before she can even pretend to be bashful about it, his eyes finds hers and they aren’t even conscious of the dancing now. Fluid and flawless and they have no idea that they are the envy of the room. As the interlude comes to an end, he pulls her back against him and as they turn, his breath and his voice returns to assault her senses. “Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore; in other words, please be true. In other words, I love. You.”

Allen and Ed watch as the song comes to an end and they both guess that Charlie’s managed to say or do something right because when the song is over, there she is, dragging him reluctantly behind her out of the room. He’s looking around like he’s guilty of a crime and Lee just wants to get him out of the room.

Ed shakes his head. “Fucking genius.”


End file.
